


Featureless

by MsChievous



Series: Loyalty and Sacrifice [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, Gen, Poor Prompto, Trauma Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-05
Updated: 2017-12-05
Packaged: 2019-02-11 03:02:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12925929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsChievous/pseuds/MsChievous
Summary: Cor brings Prompto in to identify one of his captors





	Featureless

**Author's Note:**

> Ayyy, guess who's back???? That's right, traumatized Prompto. The bae.

When Prompto wakes up, he’s cold. The blanket around him is nice and fluffy, but his legs almost feel like blocks of ice, even through the heated blanket. The nurses had explained why his burned legs feel so cold, but he still thinks it’s unfair to still have to suffer.

He still thinks it’s unfair that he doesn’t remember  _ any _ of it.

Cor’s been through his room a few times and asked him a few questions, the basics: What did they ask you? What did they do to you? Do you remember what any of them looked like?

He could only shrug and shake his head. 

He’s still only half awake when he realizes there are other people in his room, and they’re talking. Or… arguing, in whispers. He manages to peel his eyes open wide enough to see Cor crossing his arms over his chest and staring down a petite nurse. 

The nurse scowls at Cor as she says, “He’s my patient, and he’s not leaving this wing until he’s recovered!”

“I would say the patient should have a say? And if he wants to try and identify his captors?”

“He’s been through a traumatic experience!” The nurse whispers harshly, throwing her arms in the air. “You’ve said yourself that he can’t remember a damn thing!”

“We’re hoping-” Cor starts to say something, then his eyes catch on some movement, and he locks his gaze with Prompto’s hazy one. “Prompto,” He says, striding to Prompto’s bedside, “You’re awake.”

Prompto takes a few moments to blink at Cor, then parse out what the two of them had been arguing about. “You found the guys who did this to me,” He manages to rasp out.

Cor nods. “Guy,” He corrects. “The others offed themselves to avoid capture. But if you can identify this one in a lineup, it would help the case. We don’t have much otherwise.”

“Then I want to do it.”

 

* * *

 

The Citadel doctor takes over care of him when he is transported out of the hospital. He’s still swaddled in blankets all over his legs, and his hand is still in a cast, but it’s liberating to breathe in the crisp air and feel the sun on his face. Cor walks beside him and helps him into the wheelchair-accessible van waiting at the curbside.

He vaguely wonders how they got a van with clamps for a wheelchair, but he doesn’t complain as Cor and the doctor work together to secure his wheelchair to the ground and secure him to his wheelchair. 

Then the doctor buckles into the seat next to him and Cor takes the driver’s seat, and they take off towards the Citadel.

He wants Cor to turn on the music, or for someone to talk to him to distract him from the anxiety roiling in his gut and the pain radiating from his legs and hand and back. But everyone is silent, and Cor does not turn on the music.

Prompto thinks they’ve been traveling for hours by the time they arrive at the Citadel, but really only fifteen minutes pass until Cor parks the car to the side of the Citadel’s main entrance and hands the keys to a nearby Crownsguard to take care of while the doctor unlatches him from the clamps.

Prompto allows the doctor to wheel him up a ramp to the Citadel’s side entrance, then through a series of hallways, following close behind Cor’s quick strides.

Nervously, Prompto rubs his hands against the blankets, trying to wipe away the sweat accumulating in the creases and divots of his palms, but not quite succeeding. His heart pounds in his chest, and he tries to take deep breaths to slow his heart down, but he just thinks about facing one of the men that did this to him, and his heart immediately races again.

He looks up when the doctor slows him to a stop, in front of an unassuming wooden door. Prompto glances at Cor, who’s looking down at him seriously.

“You sure you’re ready for this, kid?”

Prompto nods despite the nervousness quaking through him. If Cor notices his trembling, he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he opens the door and holds it open.

The doctor wheels him in slowly, and Prompto takes the time to examine his surroundings. It’s a decent-sized room with a large window on one side. Through the window, Prompto can see a plain white wall with horizontal black lines at even intervals.

He tries to bite back a noise of discontent, but Cor looks back at him, so he must have let some of it slip through. 

Cor kneels next to him, so their faces are level. “That’s two-way glass,” He says sternly, “You can see them, but they can’t see you. We’re gonna bring in six people, I want you to point to anyone you recognize. Can you do that?”

Prompto nods mutely. It sounds simple enough. 

Cor stands and presses a button next to the big window panel. “Bring them in,” He says.

A door opens in the room in front of him, and a line of young men file through, with similar dark hair, all around the same height, and vaguely similar skin color.

Prompto watches as the men file out to stand along the back wall, staring dully at the mirror. He can’t help but feel like they all can him, but Cor said they couldn’t, so they couldn’t.

He swallows and leans closer to the glass. He can do this. He does remember there was a man with dark hair. He  _ remembers _ this. Surely he can remember the man’s face. He stares at each man, in turn, trying to fit their face into his memories, but none of them  _ fit _ . 

He clenches his hands into fists around the armrest of his wheelchair. He can  _ do _ this, it’s so  _ easy _ . He just has to remember, and-

A hand claps onto his shoulder, and Prompto jumps. Cor’s staring down at him, face drawn in an expression Prompto can’t quite place. “Do you recognize any of them?” He asks softly.

Prompto turns back, trying with all his might to remember something,  _ any _ thing. But nothing comes. It’s like grasping at water - the more he tries to hold it, the more it drains from his grasp. He slams his palm into his head, trying to knock the knowledge loose, then does it again and again and again. He’s breathing too fast, he realizes distantly but doesn’t stop as he keeps bashing his head into his hands over and over again.

“Whoa!” Cor yells, then grabs at Prompto’s hands, pulling them away from his head. “Prompto, stop!” 

Prompto looks back at Cor and realizes that he’s crying. Cor’s outline is hazy and undulates as he blinks back the tears and starts to slow his breathing.

It’s hard, but Prompto manages to take in deep breaths, gaze never leaving Cor’s face. He uses it to ground himself, staring back at unwavering blue eyes, set tiredly into a rectangular face. He times his breaths to Cor’s blinks, until he can finally talk.

“I...I don’t-” He manages to get out a few words before he’s breaking down again. Cor sighs and drops Prompto’s hands for a moment. 

“Bring ‘em back in,” he sighs, then comes back to crouch next to Prompto. “Hey,” He whispers, “It’s okay. There are other ways to get them.”

But Prompto shakes his head. That’s not why he’s crying.

“I don’t  _ remember _ ,” He said, voice raw with held-back tears. “ _ Any _ of it. Why don’t I remember any of it? I… The doctors say it’s good that I don’t remember any of it, but I… I want to know what they did!”

Cor furrows his eyebrows again. “Hey, I get it, kid. But it’s okay. You don’t need to know what-”

“But I  _ want _ to!” Prompto shouts, slamming his fists down onto his blanketed thighs and  _ immediately _ regretting it. He manages to bite back on a scream, but a sobbing whimper manages to escape, and the doctor strides forward with a cluck of the tongue.

“Come, let’s get you back to the hospital. I’m sure they’ll be able to help you there.”

Cor opens his mouth like he wants to argue, but then he shuts it and nods. “I’ll drive you back,” He says. 

Prompto nods, closing his eyes against the waves of pain from his protesting legs and wiping away stray tears with his one good hand. He feels so useless, no matter what the doctors say. He can’t even piss by himself. It fucking sucks. He wants to go back to how it was before, going on runs, being able to go up any stairs, or eat whatever food he wants.

Instead, he bites his tongue and allows himself to be taken back to the hospital.

**Author's Note:**

> All of the smoochies to ellay_gee for the title of this series


End file.
